Darkest Night
by thelittlegreennotebook
Summary: "It's a tiny place, warm and welcoming with soft light and softer croissants. A place so small that if you happened to, say, run into the bloke you had been hell-bent on avoiding—well, there would be no avoiding about it." The third and last in a series of Jily college AUs for the November Fanfiction Challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: The first in a series of Jily college AUs for the November Fanfiction Challenge.**

**Darkest Night**

**1:06 am**

It's past one in the morning when Lily starts packing up her books, tucking them, along with her exhausted laptop, into the open pocket of her backpack. Her eyes are starting to flutter closed of their own accord and her muscles are trembling from fatigue. She's been studying for nearly thirteen hours straight, as evidenced by the four large, empty cups of coffee scattered in various locations across the wide table that she had staked out just after lunch…Lunch. Her stomach growls at the memory. Is it possible she hasn't eaten anything since before noon?

Her foot catches on the leg of her chair as she drags her backpack up onto her shoulder and she nearly falls to the ground, too tired to maintain her balance. She'll be all set to go for this midterm exam—that is, if she manages to wake up in the morning. Right now, her prospects are looking low.

The wind beats relentless gusts against the wall of glass windows that span an entire side of the Student Academic Center, keeping time with Lily's slow, steady heartbeat as she trails towards the front of the building. No one is left inside, not even a janitorial squad, which Lily finds strange. Normally, someone is at the front desk until at least two in the morning.

She's just rounding the corner to the exit when a door opens to her right and someone steps out.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Lily screams and stumbles again, this time catching herself on the door handle to keep from tumbling to the floor. Quickly, she scrambles back onto equal footing and backs away from the stranger.

"Jesus, you scared the shit out of me," she says, holding a hand to her chest.

"_Why_ are you standing out in the bloody _hallway made of glass_?" the stranger says again—a tall, lanky boy with specs and a messy head of dark brown hair.

"Erm, because the architects saw fit to build it this way?" Lily suggests, inching sideways and towards the exit. She peeks behind him and sees that he's come out of a janitor's closet. Lily feels a little spark of panic light in her chest. What was he doing lurking in a supply closet?

"No I mean—" a crack of thunder sounds outside, making Lily jump again. God, she really needs to get some sleep.

"Never mind," she interrupts, hitching her shoulder strap up further and turning away from him. "I'm just…going to go."

She feels a hand close around her wrist.

"Hey, what're you—" She protests, fear suddenly coursing through her veins. "Let go of me!"

"You need to _not_ go outside," he says firmly, not pulling her forcefully, but rather keeping her in place.

"Okay, look, you're really freaking me out," Lily says calmly, trying not to let her voice shake as she tucks a lock of red hair behind her ear. "I'd appreciate it if you'd let go of me and let me go home."

"Let you go home?" the boy responds incredulously. "Are you—have you…?" He halts his speech for a moment, and drops her wrist from his grip. "You haven't heard, have you?" Before she can respond, he continues, recognition sparking in his eyes. "Of course you haven't heard. You're the bird who's been taking up the best table in the corner for the past countless hours, completely wrapped up in that monstrous textbook."

Lily rubs the joints of her wrists between two fingers—not because he hurt her, but because every part of her is on high alert from this encounter and her skin is crawling with the peculiarity of it all. She tries to ignore everything he just said that could scream _stalker._

"Haven't heard what?" she asks, just as another gust of wind hits the windows. The glass rattles threateningly behind her, but Lily doesn't dare glance away from the boy in front of her.

The stranger sighs and runs a hand through his hair, eyeing the windows behind her nervously. "There's a tornado warning across the entire campus and eight surrounding communities. A tornado _warning_, as in, there are almost certainly tornados twisting all around us as we speak _in the middle of a glass hallway_. So would you _please_, for your own sake and safety, join me in this very secure, concrete janitor's closet?"

"There's a _what?_" Lily asks incredulously, a new sort of panic pressing outwardly against her ribcage.

This time, the boy just looks exasperated. "Now I know why you need to study for so long."

"Shut up," Lily snaps, but moves towards him. "And why did you even come _out_ of there?"

"Everyone else left nearly an hour ago before the storm got so bad. I didn't think it was a big deal—you didn't hear the announcements?" he asks.

She shakes her head, realizing the gravity of the situation and trying to figure out a plan. "Okay…how about…how about you go back in there and I'll just go somewhere else. I wouldn't want to disturb—"

"Don't be an idiot," he says curtly. "Besides, I'd rather not die alone, if it's all the same to you."

Lily rolls her eyes, but—for some unknown reason—doesn't argue. "We're not going to—" a flash of lightening illuminates the entire hallway, streaking through the sky with a violent brilliance.

"Fine," she concedes quickly, urging him forward with a wave of her hands. He, of course, holds the door open for her—in the middle of a _tornado_, for God's sake—and gestures her in first.

"You better not be some sort of serial killer," Lily mutters as she passes him.

"James Potter," he replies, annoyed. "Pleasure to meet you, too." He swings the door shut behind the both of them and clicks the lock closed.

**1:47 am**

Lily sits on the hard, cold ground of the tiny trapezoidal closet, wringing her hands together nervously.

"Storms make you nervous?" James guesses lightly from where he sits against the opposite wall—that is, barely two feet away from her. He's wiping his glasses clean with the hem of his fitted red t-shirt.

"I was about to walk home in it, if you'll recall," Lily says tightly, pulling her knees up to her chest.

"Ah. Nervous because you still think I'm going to murder you, then."

"Something like that."

"You know, I'm much less likely to kill you if you tell me your name. Statistically speaking."

Lily looks at him flatly for a few moments. "Lily Evans," she says finally.

"Lily," he says contemplatively, studying her face as if trying to match it to the name. "I'm James."

"So you've said," she responds, picking at an invisible fleck of something on her leggings.

A slow smile spreads across his face, and Lily furrows her brow at him.

"What?"

"Nothing," he says, shaking his head, but the smile doesn't disappear. "Just…nothing."

**2:43 am**

Her phone dies when they've been sitting in silence for nearly an hour. She was hovering between the weather forecast and the university's announcement page when she noticed her battery was at three percent. And by that time, it was too late. The screen had flickered once and then shut down completely, leaving a thread of dread wrapped around Lily's heart.

She tries to keep from studying the boy across from her, the way his foot taps against the ground incessantly and his hand drags constantly through his hair. He catches her watching him every couple of minutes, though, and she looks away, her cheeks burning. She doesn't see, but he smiles every time.

For what seems like hours, there's nothing but silence save the sound of the storm pounding on the glass windows, and then—

"Hungry?" James asks her, smirking.

"I—_no_," but her emphatic denial can't quite drown out the sound of her stomach protesting yet again.

James reaches into his backpack and pulls out a smashed, crinkly bag of Cheetos. He tosses them over the short distance and into her lap.

Lily picks it up, fingers the glossy plastic edges. "Thanks."

**3:33 am**

"You can sleep, you know," James says as he watches her eyes droop over and over again. The lights went out for the last time almost twenty minutes ago, leaving them in the faint glow of single emergency light above them. "I promise I won't move a muscle from this spot."

Lily snaps her eyes open. "No, I—I don't want to. Just in case we…you know."

"Die?" James suggests, his words scored by the sounds of reverberating thunder and howling wind that is only somewhat muffled by the concrete walls and heavy door.

Lily cracks the smallest of smiles. "Yeah, that."

"What're you studying?"

"Sorry?"

"You can't fall asleep if you're talking to me," James tells her. "So what are you studying?"

"Biology," Lily says, too tired to even care that she barely knows this boy sitting in front of her. "Medicine, specifically. But these classes are kicking my ass."

"That's what you were studying, earlier? Biology?"

Lily nods, patting her backpack where the heavy textbook sits. "Biogenetics 560."

James raises his eyebrows. "That's advanced."

Lily shrugs. "It's not like I'll be passing. The test is in…" she presses a button on her phone, but the screen remains black. Lily sighs. "Do you have the time?"

He presses his own phone, and the display lights. "About 3:30."

"The test is in five hours and forty-five minutes and I haven't gotten a wink of rest. I won't be passing."

"I could quiz you," he offers, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose. He does that a lot, too, Lily's noticed. He's all sharp angles and manic habits.

She lets out a dry laugh. "I _definitely_ don't want to be studying biology when I die."

James smiles in return. "Fair point."

"And you?" she asks hesitantly after a few moments of silence. "What are you studying?"

His lips tighten into a straight line, and his foot taps harder. "Business and economics."

"You seem thrilled."

He doesn't meet her eyes. "It's a good path."

"But not the one you want to be on," she guesses. From the way his shoulders stay tense and his body rigid, she knows she's right.

"Why do you want to be a doctor?" he asks instead of responding.

Now it's Lily's turn to tense. She looks down and fiddles with a strap on her bag. "It's a good path," she echoes. "It's the right one—one I actually want to be on."

His eyes rise to meet hers now, brown and gold and warm and less than three feet away from her own. She feels her breath constrict in her chest, and an errant wish runs through her head for the closet to be bigger.

"You're going to be a good doctor," he says matter-of-factly. "You're intense."

"You're going to be a horrible businessman," she says, and he looks at her in surprise. "Too nice," she elaborates, and he laughs.

**4:08 am**

"What're you doing?" Lily asks groggily as James stands, avoiding her toes carefully as he steps towards the shelf that sits beside them.

"My phone just died," James says, "which means imminent doom for the both of us, because the warning was just extended an hour from eight in the morning to nine. And the only signal we'll have is when all of those windows shatter. I refuse to sit around and do nothing."

"So you're going to…what, run in place?" Lily asks. James shoots her a look.

"No," he says slowly, starting to unscrew the bottle caps on the rows of chemical bottles that sit upon the shelves. He reaches over with his other hand and tosses her a roll of blue painter's tape. "_We_ are going to distract ourselves."

"From certain death."

"Yes."

"By?"

"Why, by playing checkers, of course," he says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "Tape us up a makeshift board on the floor, would you?"

**5:17 am**

"This got old faster than I thought it would," James says, rubbing a hand over his face and knocking his glasses askew.

"You thought you'd be able to endure more than an hour of my superior checker skills?" Lily asks smugly, and James throws her a look. The bottle caps sit scattered across the immaculately strips of tape that join to form a grid. Some are dotted with blue pen ink, while other remain starkly white to indicate allegiance to either player. Lily puts a hand over her mouth and yawns.

"Ah, no falling asleep, remember?" James says. She shivers and nods. "You're cold," he says unnecessarily.

"If I'm warm, I'll fall asleep," she tells him.

"You're cold because you're tired," he argues, already shuffling on his knees across the small space between them. He tugs his backpack along with him and plops himself down next to her, wincing as his butt hits the familiar, cold concrete.

Tugging down the zippers on his bag, he pulls out a hooded sweatshirt. "Here," he says, offering it to her.

"Are you sure?" she says, too tired to refuse outright.

"I haven't been wearing it, have I? Cold tolerance of a polar bear, I swear."

She snorts, taking note of his long and gangly limbs. There's hardly an ounce of fat on his body. A body that is now pressed beside hers, shoulder to hip to foot.

"Thanks," she says, taking the sweatshirt from him and shimmying it over her head. Her nose is immediately filled with the scent of cinnamon and espresso and the residual warmth saturates her skin. She can't help the sigh of contentment that escapes her lips.

"Better?"

She nods. "Better."

**5:43 am**

"Lily?"

"Mmm?"

"Are you okay?"

"I—yeah."

"Lily."

She squirms again, wincing as she moves.

"I just…"

"What?"

The discomfort in her stomach increases, and her mind flashes to the four large cups of coffee she drank hours ago.

"I drank a lot of coffee while I was studying," she says, wiggling around a bit more, trying to ease her discomfort.

James puffs out a breath. "We can't go out there," he says, and Lily's mind focuses in on the sounds of the storm that hasn't abated in more than five hours. It's become so constant that she had been tuning it out.

"I…really have to, James. The restroom is right down the hall. I'll be back in a moment."

He makes a noise of protest as she moves away from him and stands, stretching out her muscles and joints painfully.

"Lily—"

"If the windows haven't broken yet, they're not going to now," Lily says shakily, clearly unsure.

"Says one of two people who have the worst luck in the world."

"I'm going," she says firmly, but it comes out weaker than she'd like considering her pale skin, shadowed eyes and exhausted voice.

"I'm coming with you."

"No, I—fine," she relents as he opens his mouth to protest. Mostly because she _really_ needs to go, but also because she's too tired to pretend like she would rather go alone.

They stand in front of the door together. As Lily reaches forward to open it, James grasps her hand, folding his large fingers around her smaller ones.

She glances at him out of the corner of her eye, and he nods. She throws open the door, and they run.

**5:59** **am**

"It has to have been, like, at least a full twenty-four hours by now," Lily says resolutely from where she is once again curled next to James in the janitorial closet. Their sprint to and from the restrooms had been exhilarating ("I'm demanding a separation of _at least_ five stalls," Lily had insisted, standing in the men's restroom (it was closer) with her hand still linked to James's. "Done," he had agreed, letting go of her to take the farthest stall from the bathroom entrance, at least eight doors down). But Lily's adrenaline crash had spiraled her down even harder, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to stay awake.

"Did you see how dark it was out there?" James asks her, adjusting so that she could lean further into him. "There's no way it's past six."

"Maybe it is," Lily says. "Maybe it's nighttime again and I missed my test and I'll fail out of the class and out of school and be left on the streets."

"Always the optimist."

"Like you've known me for more than five hours."

"I thought it was twenty-four."

"Shut up."

James chuckles and she can't help but smile from the way the vibrations rumble through her body soothingly.

They're silent for a while, and then Lily speaks.

"What do you really want to do with your life?"

"I told you, I'm studying business and econ—"

"I know what you're studying," she says, staring down at his gray sweatpants. "What do you _want_ to be studying?"

James lets out a long sigh and then inhales deeply. "Physical therapy," he says, and Lily can't help but be surprised. "Specifically related to sports injuries. I loved sports when I was little—football, to be exact. But I blew out my knee my junior year of secondary school and my dad thought that it was prime time to stop kicking a ball around and start taking over his company."

Lily splutters. "Your family owns a company?"

"Yes."

"Would I have heard of it?"

James pauses. "Yes."

"Which one?"

"I'm not telling you."

"What?" she asks, looking up at him. Her face just is just inches away from his. "Why not?"

"Because."

Lily snorts. "Oh, great answer. Very articulate. You know, if we die I'll never know."

"It'll be my biggest regret," he says dully, and she can't help but laugh.

"Fine. But just so you know, you're stupid."

"Just because I won't tell you the name of the company—"

"Not for the company, idiot. For doing what your dad wants, even though it makes you miserable."

"I'm not miserable," James protests weakly.

"Yes, you are. Or at least, you will be if you have to work in the corporate world for the rest of your life. At the end of the day, your dad will want you to be happy. And when he realizes thirty years from now that you're not happy, he'll never forgive himself. And you'll never forgive him, either. That's kind of a shoddy relationship to have with your parents."

He stays quiet for a long time, considering her words. And then—

"How do you know you'll be happy? How do you know medicine is the right path?" he asks her.

"Do I need a reason?"

He considers her face in the dark. "No, but you have one."

Lily doesn't respond for a while, disconcerted at the way he's able to open her up and see inside so effortlessly. He's about to change the subject, certain he overstepped somehow, when she responds.

"My parents died," she says suddenly. "Three years ago, two months after I was accepted into this school. Car accident. My dad—they told me he didn't stand a chance. An instant, painless death. But my mum…the first responders got there in time. They got her to the hospital and into surgery. They thought she was going to be fine, but she never made it off the table. Unseen complications, or some rubbish like that."

"I—God, Lily, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have—"

"No, it's fine. Really." She shrugs, her shoulder pressing briefly into his side. "I didn't get to say goodbye to either of them, so it took me a long time to…move on, or whatever. But once I did, what I wanted out of _my_ life was pretty obvious."

"Giving other people the chance to have their parents."

"To say goodbye to them when they're ready to, at least," Lily amends, and James stays thoughtfully silent.

"I'm really sorry," he repeats.

"I know," she says. "Me too. But you should really tell your dad."

"Maybe if our luck changes and we get out of here, I'll tell him."

She swallows down another yawn and scoots closer into his side, sharing the warmth of his sweatshirt as she settles her head against his shoulder.

"Keep calling our meeting bad luck and I might start to get offended, Potter," She mumbles into his shirt.

"Don't fall asleep on me, Evans," he says, his voice laced with something close to affection.

"I would never."

**9:52 am**

A bright, unwelcome light wakes her abruptly, streaming directly through her eyelids with a piercing agony. Lily winces and shifts uncomfortably, feeling James's arm slip lower where it's wound tightly around her waist.

"What are you two doing here?" a stern voice demands, and Lily lifts her head from James's head, jerking fully awake.

James comes to as well, shaking his head wearily and squinting through his haphazardly placed glasses.

"What?" he asks groggily, dragging his fingers across the small of Lily's back as he extracts his hand and straightens his specs.

"We got caught in the storm," Lily answer automatically, not even sure to whom she is speaking. For all she knows, she's dreaming. Her eyes are still half-closed in order to avoid the painful light. "Please, sir, can you shut off that light?"

The man chuckles a deep, throaty laugh. "I'm afraid not. That's the sunlight, and I'd say it's about time to be thankful for it."

"The sun?" Lily says, still dazed from weariness and so little sleep—wait, when did they fall asleep? "What time is it?" she asks, her eyes snapping fully open.

"Just about ten o'clock," the man, who Lily can now see is wearing a fluorescent jacket that says _police. _"It's about the soonest that we could—"

"Ten?" she asks frantically, scrambling clumsily to her feet. "Ten? God, I am _so _screwed. I slept through my midterm and I have to go and—"

Behind her, James rises to his feet as well, reaching down for her bag and handing it to her.

"Whoa, whoa, miss," the officer says, his body still blocking the doorway as he holds up his hands. "Slow down. Classes have been cancelled for the next two days."

"What?" Lily breathes as the policeman moves from her exit to reveal the large, floor to ceiling windows.

Outside, the world is chaos. Trees are entirely uprooted or tipped over, and destruction leaves it's mark on cars and buildings for as far as Lily can see. Several of the large windows are cracked from the impact of any number of objects.

"Holy…" James says, stepping out behind her.

"Was anyone hurt?" Lily asks breathlessly, and the officer shakes his head.

"Thankfully, they were given enough warning to get to a safe place," he tells them, and Lily doesn't miss the look that James shoots her. "The damage is mostly superficial, as well. But the clean up will take a couple of days."

"We can go back to sleep?" James asks mindlessly, and the policeman seems to notice their condition for the first time.

"I can't imagine why not," he tells them. "You two must have had quite the night. How about I walk you out of the building and you tell me how you ended up here."

James and Lily nod, grabbing their bags and trailing behind the guard. Lily lets James do most of the talking, ignoring the jabs that he sends her way in the process ("And I swear, she was about to just _walk out the door, _casual as anything). Finally, they make it through the front doors and out into the blinding sunlight.

"That's quite a tale," the officer says. "And those are some unlucky circumstances you ran into."

James turns to gaze at Lily with a smirk on his face, adorably rumpled and sleep-deprived as he looks at her, really looks at her—without adrenaline pumping through his body or a life-threatening natural disaster on their hands—for the first time. There are freckles that are scattered across her nose, which is a perfect kind of beauty, he thinks.

"I think that depends on how you look at it, officer," James says, and Lily's cheeks color.

"Thank you for finding us," Lily says, looking back at the policeman.

"You kids get some rest now, all right?" he says, before walking off towards his squad car.

When Lily turns back, James is grinning at her stupidly.

"Not dead," he declares, spreading out his arms in victory and raising his face towards the sky.

Lily rolls her eyes. "No, not dead."

"And I believe I just slept in a very confined space with a very pretty girl."

"You're a ponce when your life isn't being threatened, you know."

"No, no," James declares, shaking his head in disappointment. "It's too late for ridicule or rejection. You've already seen my soft side. Now you won't be able to stay away. You're in too deep. You'll have to deal with me."

"I beg to differ," Lily says. "I actually don't have to deal with you at all." She turns away from him, but he calls out to her.

"So, meet you back here in ten hours?"

"What possible reason would I have for doing that?" she wonders, turning around again to face him.

"Because I'm a whiz at biology, and you have a test to study for," he takes a few steps closer to her. His face grows more serious, but there's still a slight smile on his face. "Plus, you need to help me draft a statement to my father. You got me into this mess of a promise, Evans, and you're damn well going to get me out. You owe me that much."

"Owe you for _what?_" she demands, amusement dancing across her features no matter how hard she tries to tamp it down.

"Why, for saving your life last night, of course."

"Pardon me?"

"Oh, please," James says. "If it weren't for me, you would have walked out into a tornado."

"And now I'm thinking I would have been better off."

"Admit it, I'm the luckiest thing that ever happened to you."

Lily looks at him closely, scanning his face with her green eyes. "We'll see, Potter." She turns away a final time, shaking her head incredulously in the process.

"Ten hours?" he shouts from behind her.

"Only if you're lucky," she calls back, hiding the smile that spreads across her face at the sound of his laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Haven't a Clue**

xxx

October

xxx

The text announces itself just as Lily is reaching the door of her dorm room, sending a silent vibration through her jeans to her thigh. She suspends her keys in one finger and fishes her phone out with her others, sighing at the screen once it opens.

_Room is occupied. Sorry for late notice. Love me still? Kisses_

Lily rolls her eyes but steps back away from her door immediately, thinking about the activities occurring between her best friend and some random bloke, no doubt, on the other side.

She pivots on her feet and considers her options. There is Mary and Alice's room, but they live a few blocks over in a different building, and the redhead is rather exhausted from studying all night. She's not exactly mates with anyone else on her floor—or at least, not mates enough to knock on their door at two in the morning asking for a place to stay.

Just as she's resigned herself to one of the scratchy, stiff chairs in the communal floor lounge, a room just to her left opens and out steps a lanky figure with an uncontrollable mop of dark hair.

"Evans?" James Potter says, squinting against the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway. "What are you doing out here?"

She startles, surprised that she'd run into him, of all people, at this hour. "Potter, I—My roommate is…otherwise occupied."

"Ah, the classic sexile," James says knowingly, twirling an empty water bottle between his hands.

"The classic what?"

"You know," James says, shrugging and pulling his door shut quietly behind him. "An exile based in sexual activities. Sex-ile."

"That's…well, that's rather clever."

"There's a lot of thinking that goes on at two in the morning when you're roommate has sent you that dreaded text. Establishing a term for it was just the beginning."

Lily chuckles lightly, and they stand there awkwardly for a moment, neither quite sure of what to say. They've shared a rocky acquaintanceship since the beginning of term—his adolescent antics irritate the bloody hell out of her—but there's something softer about early morning encounters in a silent hallway, the world entirely their own.

"Well, listen," he finally says, his tone stilted and uncertain as he jerks a thumb back towards his room, "do you need a place to stay?"

"What?" Lily asks. "Oh, no, it's—I'll be fine."

"Rubbish," he insists, shaking his head. "We've that new futon Sirius insisted on buying, and it'll only bug me more if we don't find a legitimate use for it soon."

"I couldn't," Lily protests again. "I'm sure Marlene will be…done soon." She winces at the image that her words bring to mind.

"Don't be ridiculous," James says. "You've class tomorrow, I'm sure. Just let me go get water and then we'll get you settled."

"If you're sure…I mean, if it's really not a bother," Lily says, and James nods confidently. "Thanks, Potter."

"Not at all," he says. He turns to saunter down towards the drinking fountain, leaving a dumbstruck Lily left to pull her thoughts together in the hallway.

xxx

January

xxx

_This is getting a little ridiculous,_ Lily has the decency and semi-muddled brain capacity to acknowledge as she stands outside his door—_again_—at nearly three in the morning. When the door opens in response to her knock, she's a little too drunk to not stand there and stare at a very sleep-rumbled, shirtless, illegally adorable James Potter. He squints at her through glasses that are teetering off the bridge of his nose and uses one hand to mess up his bed-head hair.

"Evans?" He asks, his voice muddled with weariness and confusion.

Lily holds up her coat and purse in a shrug. "Marlene sexiled me," she whispers loudly.

"Again?"

"Fourth Saturday in a row," Lily tells him, as if he doesn't already know.

"Painfully aware," he says.

"Painfully?" Lily asks, raising her eyebrows. "I thought we had a rather pleasant arrangement going here, Potter."

"Perhaps not as pleasant as Marlene's."

She swats at his chest with her jacket, just barely missing as he takes a little hop back, smug smile plastered across his sleepy features.

"Are you going to let me in, or not?" she asks, trying to enunciate her words as best as possible.

"With that skirt on, Evans, how could I not?" He opens the door wider, beckons her in with a flourish of his hands.

She scowls at him. "Why are you so sober? You're nicer when you're not sober."

She doesn't pay attention to his response as she shuffles further into the room—the warm, cluttered room, smelling of a James-like cinnamon and the spice of Sirius's ever-pleasant cologne—and stares blankly at her typical sleeping location: the futon. The trashed, irreparably broken futon.

"What the hell?" she whisper-shouts, taking note of Sirius's sleeping form and turning around to face James as he rustles around in his wardrobe. He surfaces with a large t-shirt and sweatpants, which he throws to her. The fabric hits her in the chest, the smell of laundry detergent wafting up to meet her. She closes her eyes and inhales, a soft smile on her lips. "You washed them," she says, distracted from the futon.

"You can't just sleep in the same pajamas for four nights in a row without washing them," he says, turning around to give her the privacy to change in the small dorm room. His voice isn't quite a whisper, just very low and very quiet. It makes Lily's skin tingle with warmth—or maybe that's the vodka. She gazes at his back—the muscles rippling across his shoulder blades, the straight line of his spine and narrow waist that disappear into his boxers…and the bolt of desire that shoots through her veins is _definitely not _the vod—

"You planning on changing anytime soon, Evans?" he says over his shoulder, and Lily jumps a little bit in surprise.

"Right," she says, dropping her jacket and purse. "Right." She pulls off her skirt and slips her legs into the sweatpants, pulling the drawstring tight around her hips. Then she rucks off her cardigan and tank top, letting James's shirt flow over her torso and drop to her thighs.

"Decent," she says, kicking her clothes and bag towards the broken futon with inebriated carelessness. "What happened?" she asks again, tipping her head sideways. Her equilibrium is so off-balance that her entire body almost teeters over as well, save for James's hand steadying her at her waist. When did he get so close?

"Sirius broke it, the drunken ponce," he says, with a shake of his head, retracting his hand. His eyes land on her, practically swimming in his clothes, and linger.

She barely notices—_tries _not to notice—instead grabbing an extra pillow and a throw blanket off of his bed.

"What are you doing?" he asks, stepping forward.

She looks at him strangely, confused. "Sleeping?"

"On what, the floor?"

Lily drops her gaze to the floor and pivots a bit with her hips, taking stock of the situation. She looks back up at him, ignoring his smile at her drunken foolishness. "Yes?"

He grabs the pillow and blanket and throws them back onto his bed. "No."

"I'm not—I'm not _getting into bed with you_, James Potter," she tells him sternly, her voice slipping out of a whisper. She pokes a finger into his chest and her green eyes are unfocused and cloudy and just as captivating as always.

"You're also not sleeping on tiles," he tells her. "We can sleep headsies-footsies."

"Headsies-whatsies?" She giggles, her tongue tripping over the consonants.

"Will you just get into the bed?" he asks, amusement in his eyes. "Please?"

She gazes at him contemplatively. "Put on a shirt," she says.

He sighs and goes back to his closet, picking up a wrinkled, cotton t-shirt and throwing it on. He holds up his arms as if to say _better?_

Lily nods satisfactorily and crawls into his bed, sliding her legs underneath the covers and propping herself up on her arms. "You are not sleeping with your head near my feet," she tells him, wrinkling her nose adorably. "That's disgusting."

He huffs out a laugh and eases in beside her, reaching over her lap to pull the comforter over both of them. She watches him closely as he eases himself onto his back, but she's still leaning up on straight arms.

"Can you stop over-thinking everything for once?" James says, amused. "You're drunk and you're still overthinking this."

"This doesn't mean anything," Lily says, her eyes as sober as they've ever been, her voice sounding like she's trying to convince herself.

He tugs on one of her elbows, pulling her down next to him and—in the small confines of the standard-issue twin mattress—right against his side. "Nothing," he agrees, even as she automatically starts to curl into his side. "Completely platonic."

She's gone when he awakens, her—his—clothes folded impeccably in a pile on his desk. Sirius is up and about, a towel tied around his waist and the most obnoxious look on his face every time he glances over at James.

"Don't," James warns, tossing his covers aside and dropping his feet over the side of the bed.

"I didn't say anything," Sirius says innocently, gathering items into his shower caddy. "There's a note, though."

James furrows his eyebrows, standing up and rubbing his fists against his eyes as he makes his way over to the desk.

_James,_

_I'll talk to Marlene. Sorry (again) if I was a bother. Thanks for the clothes. And the bed. _

_Lily_

James's eyes scan over the note once, twice, and he shakes his head on the third read. He picks up his phone, cursing this infuriating, mad, enchanting woman every step of the way. He thinks of the way she fell asleep almost immediately, curled into his chest with her feet tangled in his. He can still feel the warmth of her against him, right over his heart.

His thumb scrolls down, finding her name. "Lily Next Door," it reads, and he snorts. She had caught his eye all those months ago, on move-in day, with her flowery skirt and colorful bedspread and a strange lack of parents to help her move in. He had infuriated her—of course he had infuriated her, the girl wouldn't get out of his bloody head. There was no way to leave it alone. And somehow—somehow, through study sessions and late night snack excursions and their roommates' inclinations to have one-night stands—they had built a friendship.

And that infuriated _him_ more than anything.

_No bother, _he types. _Though I feel obligated to inform you that the futon won't be fixed for several weeks._

He leaves it at that, tossing his phone back onto his desk.

There's a ping a moment later, signaling her response. He gets up to check it.

_That's a long time…is it possible I'm sensing some ulterior motives?_

He stares down at the screen, the tiny little letters forming these words that make his heart thump faster against his rib cage. His fingers hover of the keyboard, moving back and forth over the keys without pressing down. After a few moments, he quickly types out a message.

_Hm, haven't a clue what you're talking about._

James lets his body fall back against the mattress, covering his face and groaning into his hands.

He's such an idiot.

xxx

She shows up outside his dorm room again exactly six days later, sober and tired and standing with another text glaring her in the face.

She supports Marlene's endeavors, but this is getting a little exhausting. _This_ not being exiled from her room so much as it is living with the thoughts of James Potter's torso pressed against hers day in and day out.

Really, her life would be much easier if she could just sleep in her own bed.

She raises her hand to knock and hesitates, her mind flashing once again to last Saturday, with James's skewed glasses and soft white t-shirt and arm curled around her waist in the morning. Shaking her head, Lily's scatters her thoughts and knocks, waiting impatiently for James to stumble to the door.

"Sorry—" the apology immediately drops from her lips as the door swings open, but she's stopped mid-sentence.

It's not James answering the door; it's Sirius.

"Evans?"

"Sirius," Lily says. "I was—well, expecting James, I suppose. He lets me crash on your futon when Marlene is…otherwise engaged."

"I know," Sirius says slowly, looking at her weirdly. "I see you there when I get up in the morning."

"Right," Lily says, color rising to her cheekbones. God, she's so tired. "Of course."

"Listen," Sirius says, "I would invite you in, but the futon is still in shambles and James isn't actually _here_, so…"

"Oh," Lily says, surprised. And then, understanding, again: "_Oh._"

James, still out at one in the morning on a Saturday. James, occupying someone else's bed. The image of another girl pressed against his torso with her head pillowed against his chest as he slips his arm around her fills her head and a liquid _something _pools in Lily's chest, swelling against her ribcage until she's sure she's going to be sick. "All right, sure. Well, I-I'll just—"

"His bed is vacant though," Sirius says. "So if you'd like you can…"

Lily has never had a thought so repulsive, sleeping in James's bed while _he—_

"No," she says adamantly, too loudly for the quiet hallway. "No, I'm going to go. I'll just—I'll go."

She hears Sirius close the door when she's more than halfway down the hallway, heading for the stiff, scratchy couches in the communal lounge. Her eyes are burning and she can hear her heartbeat through her eardrums, pounding out a rhythm that echoes through her head like the disappointment—and it is disappointment, she realizes, probably too late—coursing through her body.

It's hours more before sleep finally overtakes her.

When she wakes, it's to a soft, whispering voice and a hand stroking through her hair.

"Lily," the voice says soothingly. "Time to get up and go to bed."

The words filter through her mind and she registers first their meaning and then their origin. Her eyes open to see James Potter crouching in front of her. It's still dark out, and the memories of just a few hours ago come spilling back into her mind. She flinches away slightly from his touch.

"What?" she asks, craning her head up painfully from where it's propped in her hand. She can barely fit curled up on the couch, and the stress on her neck has taken its toll. She winces as she sits up.

"You're sleeping in the lounge," James says, a soft smile playing at his lips. "Presumably because Marlene has a guest. Come to my room."

Lily blinks once, twice, getting rid of the itchy dryness of her eyes. "No," she says, shaking her head. "You go. I'll stay here."

He laughs a short, innocent laugh. "Lily, you can't stay here. You've nearly broken your neck already. Just…c'mon. I know the futon is still broken but it really wasn't too bad—"

"James, _no,_" Lily says, her voice clearer now as she sits up. "I'm not going with you."

"What?" James says looking legitimately confused. "Why?"

"Because I'm not sleeping in the same bed with you after you've—after you've…"

"After I've…?" he prompts, and Lily just stares at him. "Lily? After I've what?"

"After you've slept with someone else!" she bursts out quietly, her voice filling the dark room around them. "I won't be that girl."

"After I've _what?_" James says incredulously. "What are you talking about?"

Lily rolls her eyes. "I went to your room already, and you weren't there. Sirius answered the door and told me you were out for the night. As in, sleeping somewhere else." She raises her eyebrows, her message coming in clear.

"He said that I was—" James's brows furrow for a moment, and then a realization dawns in his hazel eyes. "Out—wait, a minute. I was _studying. _Out _studying_, Lily. Studying, not—God, what do you take me for?"

"Someone who likes company, apparently," Lily says, still not entirely convinced.

"Yes, _your _company. You think I would sleep with someone else?" He asks, looking a bit hurt now, and Lily's confidence falters. He eases down onto his knees from his crouched position at her side and puts his hands on her knees. His eyes are oozing with sincerity that makes her heart pound just a little bit faster. "Lily, there's only one girl I want in my bed, platonically or not."

"But…Sirius said—"

"_Sirius_ is a right ponce," James interrupts, looking at her fiercely. "He's just messing with you."

"Is _he_ the one who's messing with me?" Lily asks, feeling petty and stupid and jealous. "Mr. I-Haven't-A-Clue-What-You're-Talking-About?"

James huffs a sigh and glares at her. "You're not the easiest to interpret, either, you know. Bloody impossible, actually. But Lily," he says, scooting closer to her and brushing the backs of his fingers along her cheekbone. She shivers involuntarily. "You think I let anyone just catch a nap in my bed whenever they feel like it?"

"I don't know, you and Sirius seem pretty close…"

"Oh, shut it," James says, rolling his eyes at her laughter. He takes her hands in his and pulls her up to her feet. Lily's legs wobble a little bit at first, but she's smiling now as he releases one of her hands and holds fast to the other.

"No, really," she teases, walking with him towards the hallway. "You should have heard him tonight. '_I see you there when I get up in the morning_.' If looks could kill, I swear."

"Similar to you a few moments ago, I reckon," James says, shooting her a cocky grin.

Lily gasps "I—no…I was not _jealous_," she protests, looking at him incredulously.

"Oh, you so were."

"Was _not_."

"Flinching away when I touched you, refusing to sleep in my bed…" James singsongs, holding tight to her fingers when she tries to pull away.

"I've reconsidered, now that you mention it," Lily sulks as they reach his door. She makes to walk to her own room, consequences be damned.

"Oh, no you don't," James says, tugging on her arm and pulling her back into him. "Don't pretend for a second like you don't love my exceedingly comfy bed. It was probably the best night of sleep you've ever gotten."

Lily just leans in close to him, drawing him in closer. And then, just as their toes touch and their hips press together, she snatches his keys from his palm and ducks around his shoulder. Unlocking the door with ease, she slips inside and throws him a smirk over her shoulder.

"Why, I haven't a clue what you're talking about."


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: This is a direct continuation of part 1. Enjoy!_

**Brightest Day**

Lily's favorite coffee shop is a painful cliché, but one she can't help but indulge in. It's a tiny brick establishment, so small that you can barely move between the tables without sending someone's coffee mug flying. There are delicious, freshly made pastries and a small little second floor that is really just an indoor balcony found at the top of a narrow metal staircase. The seats are cushioned and the tables are solid wood and the coffee—the coffee is _divine._ The doors close between two and three in the morning for cleaning, but Lily knows that if you help sweep the floors they won't send you outside.

Like she said, it's a tiny place, warm and welcoming with soft light and softer croissants. A place so small that if you happened to, say, run into the bloke you had been hell-bent on avoiding—well, there would be no _avoiding _about it.

When James Potter walks through the door not fifteen minutes after her on a Sunday morning, Lily sinks down into her seat on instinct, tucked up in the very corner of the second floor. A cheery, jingling bell announces his arrival, and Lily doesn't know _why_ she looks up, really, only that she wishes she hadn't.

He doesn't notice her at first, walking right over to the coffee bar and striking up conversation with the pretty barista. Their interaction is familiar—Lily can tell by the way James is gesturing with his hands—and she feels her stomach sink. An invasion of her coffee shop is never something she appreciates, and she'll surely never be able to return again.

She watches out of the corner of her eye as James orders and pays, leaving a generous tip in the jar that's labeled with a worn piece of paper. He waits at the other end of the bar, unfastening the buttons of his coat and tapping his fingers against the wooden surface idly. When he starts to gaze around the room, Lily shoves herself as far into her corner as she can go, positioning her open laptop in front of her face and tucking her chin into her scarf. She peeks out three minutes later and finds that he's gone from her sight—ah, no, he's found a comfortable position by the window, hair all stuck up from removing his hat and facing away from her with a steaming mug of coffee and a scone.

Well, good, then. All's well that ends well, and all that rubbish.

Except, not. Because Lily, of course, finds herself staring at him over the top edge of her computer—behavior that isn't altogether conducive to finishing (ahem, _starting_) her research paper. She watches as he eats his bakery item slowly, sipping at his coffee with delicate care. His cheeks are adorably red from the cold and his hands so large they nearly take up the entire surface area of his huge mug.

He watches out the window with such fascination that she can't take her eyes off of him, gazing at his profile as he watches the snow spiral and swirl on the other side of the glass. Finally, Lily calls enough, enough and re-positions her chair so that it faces the wall instead of the open area of the shop. She sets to work on finishing this paper and refuses to stop until it's done.

Of course, there are complications. One of the important ones being when Lily, an hour after silently declaring her resolution to _not look_, reaches for her mug and finds it empty.

"_Dammit," _she curses under her breath, tipping the ceramic cup back further for the few droplets of foam and espresso that land pathetically on her lower lip. There's no way she's going to get through the endless data compilation without a constant flow of caffeine.

She swivels around discreetly to glance over her shoulder, trying to determine if there's any way of getting to the coffee bar without rousing the attention of the unwanted invader.

"_Dammit_," she swears again, after conceding to the fact that there is not.

_Well, then_, she thinks, reaching across her small table for her phone. _Time to call in the troops._

She has to dial again after the line goes to voicemail, waiting impatiently as the phone rings through its cycle. On the last ring of Lily's second call, she gets an answer.

"Lily, I told you I'm at work," Marlene hisses through the phone, and Lily knows exactly where she is, huddled in a small supply closet. "Tom will kill me if he catches me with my phone out again."

"I know, I know," Lily says, glancing over her shoulder again at James. "But I'm having a bit of a crisis—a _problem_. I'm having a bit of a problem."

Marlene sighs heavily on the other end. "What is it?"

"I need you to bring me coffee."

"Lily, I'm _at work," _the blonde repeats.

"I _know_," Lily says quietly. "I'm here, too."

"You're—_what?_" Lily hears the click of a doorknob and she chances a glance over the balcony railing, looking down into the back hallway that leads to the restrooms and said supply closet. Marlene's blonde curls and blue eyes are peeking out of a narrow gap that she makes for herself between the door and its frame, and it takes a little wave to get her to notice Lily.

Marlene's features quickly morph into an exasperated glare and she folds herself back into the closet.

"So you're too lazy to go get another latte and I'm supposed to cater to your every wish?" Marlene asks over the phone again.

"No," Lily says. "I just…can't come down."

"What? Why?"

"Would you believe me if I said I broke my ankle?"

Marlene snorts. "Not bloody likely."

"What if I said I'll tip you fifty percent of the purchase?"

"I would say you're a scum best mate," Marlene says. "And that I'll be up in five minutes."

"Love you," Lily singsongs.

"Yeah, yeah."

Marlene emerges from the supply closet and smooths down her hair and apron, rolling her eyes up at Lily when the redhead sends her a quick smile.

Like clockwork, though, she's climbing the stairs five minutes later to give Lily her latte and a fresh croissant. Lily dutifully hands her the money and Marlene pockets it gratefully before sitting down across from her friend.

"Why are you all cloak and dagger in the corner?" Marlene asks, giving Lily a strange look.

"I'm not all cloak and dagger in the corner," Lily says casually, shrugging her shoulders and tearing a bit off of her pastry. "This is, you know, comfy."

Marlene narrows her eyes. "Lily Evans…"

"Aren't you supposed to be working?" Lily asks pointedly.

"Tom!" Marlene shouts, and Lily flinches, curling back further into her corner. "I'm taking my ten!"

"All right!" Comes a shout back from behind the counter, and Marlene smirks at Lily in a satisfied way.

"Now, spill."

Lily shoves some flaky deliciousness in her mouth and chews slowly before swallowing. Marlene waits as patiently as Marlene can wait before Lily speaks.

"Okay," Lily says, leaning forward across the table and keeping her voice low. "Do you see that bloke over there, sitting by the window on the ground floor?"

Marlene doesn't even turn around to check. "Are you joking? He's here all the time—Teresa knows him by name. Deadly gorgeous bloke, if you ask me. It's James…something."

"Potter," Lily finishes for her. "His name is James Potter."

Marlene raises her eyebrows. "And how do you know this dashing James Potter?"

"Well, I don't know if you'll remember," Lily says, clearing her throat nervously. "But a few months ago during—you know, during that tiny, insignificant tornado warning—"

"_That's the bloke you were stranded with in the janitor's closet?" _Marlene nearly shouts, and Lily reaches forward to cup a hand over the blonde's mouth.

"Please, Marlene, yell a little louder," Lily says, glaring. "I'm not sure if he could quite hear you."

Marlene grabs Lily's wrist and pries her fingers from her mouth. "_That's_ the bloke? The bloke who invited you to study afterwards? The bloke who you _ditched_?"

"I didn't _ditch _him," Lily protests. "I…fell asleep! I fell asleep, and it's not like I had his number or anything, and the whole ordeal was rather embarrassing, you know, and—"

"And he practically saved your pathetic, sorry life, but you couldn't even muster the decency to thank him?" Marlene finishes for her, and Lily blushes.

"Everyone keeps saying that he _saved_ me, as if I would have just walked out into a tornado."

"You were bloody well about to!" Marlene cries, throwing up her hands.

"For the love of God, would you _keep it down_?" Lily says lowly, ducking her head.

"Lily, you really have to go talk to him," Marlene says resolutely.

"I really don't."

"At least apologize for standing him up!"

"I didn't stand him up, Mar, and it's been months. He probably doesn't even remember me—God, look at him, it's not as if he doesn't come across his fair share of girls."

"Not any with whom he spent the night in a supply closet."

"It was one time."

"Pretty significant time, if you ask me," Marlene says.

Lily rolls her eyes, taking a sip of her latte. "Don't you have to get back to work?"

Marlene glances at her watch and jumps up. "Shit, yeah. But I mean it, Lily, go talk to him."

"Or what?" Lily challenges.

"Or I'll kick you out for disruptive behavior."

"My behavior isn't disruptive!"

"It's bloody infuriating is what it is," Marlene says, pitching her tone up an octave as she reties her apron around her waist. "_Oh, look, a devilishly handsome bloke who saved my life. Let's avoid him at all costs."_

"I don't even sound like that," Lily objects, but Marlene just turns away.

"Gotta go, love," she says to Lily. "Just remember what I said."

For the next hour, it's all Lily can think about. She doesn't get a single word on biology down on paper. All she can do is twirl her croissant around her fingers and take long sips of coffee, leaning over every so often to make sure that James is still there.

She can't just…she can't just go up to him with absolutely no preamble. What is she supposed to say? _Oh, hi, remember me? The stranger you napped with in a supply closet when we thought we were done for? Yes, well, sorry for never following up with that. And for avoiding you like the plague._

Lily sighs, letting her eyes drift back to the research paper. The blank page stares back at her as if it's daring her to right something. The blinking cursor does nothing but taunt her. Lily shakes her head, trying to scatter her battling thoughts.

The thing is that she doesn't…she doesn't _owe _him anything, right? She doesn't. Because she just happened to be in the right place at the right time—heavily depending on how you looked at it, given the weather and everything.

But then again, it's not like it didn't help, the fact that he had been there that night. Because she probably would have walked out into that horrific storm and yeah, okay, maybe a bit of a _thank you_ is in order. And, incidentally, speaking of preamble and this bloody fucking essay, he _had _said that he's a whiz at biology, hadn't he, all those months ago? And she _is_ having trouble and it wouldn't hurt to…

_Oh, bloody hell, fine_, Lily thinks to herself, pushing herself to her feet.

She balances her mug carefully in one hand and picks up her laptop with the other, grasping onto a corner of it as she makes her way to the stairs and descends with careful steps.

Once at the bottom, she can see him clearly again, sitting at the window with a posture that would look calm and collected if his knee wasn't jerking up and down like a pogo stick. He looks down at his phone and laughs at something and Lily almost turns around and bolts back up the stairs right then, right when she sees his perfect teeth and arched lips flash with happiness. She's swiveling on her heel, in fact, getting ready to run, but then—as if he could sense her behind him—he turns around.

When he sees her, his hazel eyes glint with amusement and curiosity so instantly it might as well be a reflex. She realizes that this exact expression of his is etched into her mind with a certain familiarity that makes Lily's legs wobble a bit and she honest-to-God almost drops her coffee.

After a few moments of standing there, frozen, she realizes with a rush of embarrassment that she's staring. His eyebrows rise in a challenge and Lily feels heat spreading up her cheeks to her temples. She takes a breath and walks forward until she reaches his table.

"Hi," she says nervously when she's standing right in front of him. He has a casual smirk on his face, and it's weird for her to see him like this—as a regular human being, rather than someone cooped up in a closet with her during a severe storm warning.

"Hi," he says warmly, her heart stutters at his voice, low and soft and just like she remembers.

"I—er—I have this paper to write," she says, waving her computer a bit and then wanting to smack her head with it because _was that seriously her opening?_

"Yeah?" he says.

"Yes, and…well, you said you were decent at biology."

He furrows his eyebrows. "Did I?" he asks, and she can tell from the way his smirk doesn't fade that now he's just trying to be a cocky arsehole. "You'll have to remind me of when this was, because I can't recall where I know you from…Remind me of your name?"

Lily rolls her eyes. "_James._"

His grin widens. "No, you see, that's _my _name."

Lily pulls out the chair across from him and sits down. Somehow, James acting like a prat is making this easier for her to handle.

"Can you help me with biology or not?" Lily asks, setting down her laptop and latte and meeting his gaze. He studies her face for a minute, his eyes sobering to a look that she's seen before, when her stomach was knotted with fear. Now it's still knotted—just not from fear.

"You stood me up," he says bluntly in response.

"I did _not_," Lily protests.

"I offered to study with you later that day—"

"And I didn't respond," Lily interjects. "Therefore, there was no standing up involved."

He narrows his eyes at her and presses his lips into a straight line, trying to figure her out.

After a few seconds, his gaze makes her squirm. "Will you help me with biology, or not?" she repeats.

"It'll come with a price," he tells her.

Lily quirks an eyebrow at him. "What's the price?"

"When I'm done helping you," he tells her, leaning across the table on his elbows, "I get to ask you one question. And you have to give me an honest answer. No avoiding, no running, no…calling your mate to bring you coffee."

Lily's cheeks flush pink. "You heard us?"

"The whole coffee shop heard you, Lily."

She bites her lip at the sound of her name on his lips, glancing away from him and thinking. "Fine," she decides. "You help me; I answer one question."

"Honestly?"

"Honestly."

"Because, you know, there was a time not too long ago when you promised me something and didn't follow through."

Lily rolls her eyes. "I hardly _promised_ you anything, Potter. I didn't even _suggest_ it."

James is shaking his head forlornly. "Spin it however you'd like," he says. "I'm going to give you another chance, anyway."

"How noble of you," Lily says dryly.

James laughs and reaches out to fit his hand around the edge of her chair, pulling her closer to him. Lily gives out a little yelp and grabs his arm to keep her balance. Once her chair is practically touching his, he takes her laptop and spins it towards them.

"So, biology," James says, cool as anything. Lily wants to roll her eyes again, shake her head at him or hit his shoulder or _something_. But his knee is pressed against hers and all she can think about is the bloke who made her laugh late into the night when they were trapped in a tiny supply closet, so she simply pulls her coffee to chest and says nothing.

x-x-x

Three hours later, Lily is looking at one of the most comprehensive and well-structured outlines ever created in the history of time. James's laptop is open next to her, the screen cluttered with about a thousand open windows and his head is resting on the keyboard.

"This is why I didn't go into biology," he mutters into the keys that are smashed against his cheek.

"But we did it," Lily says, sounding amazed. "I mean, I'll barely have to write anything, just piece the sentences together and—wow, I can't believe we did it."

"Quite a pair, we are," James says and Lily can't bring herself to glance down at him with anything other than fondness. "Another refill?" he offers, gesturing to her mug. They've been switching off on coffee runs every so often, James more than Lily because he's a ponce about paying and, quite honestly, Lily would rather avoid Marlene's smug looks.

She wants to say yes, but without her paper to focus on she's scared the conversation will spiral into something else. So Lily shakes her head instead. "No, thanks. I think I'm actually going to head back to my room and sleep some of this biology out of my head."

She reaches down for her backpack, which she retrieved from her table upstairs hours ago, but James grabs her hand before it can make contact with the handle.

"Not so fast," he says, "or did you forget about our deal?"

"Oh, that," Lily says flatly, wriggling her hand out of his grip.

"Yes, that."

Lily pushes a lock of hair out of her face and turns towards him, taking a deep breath. She's been avoiding looking at him as much as possible, because he really is very handsome in the gentle glow of the coffee shop, with his gray sweater and dark jeans and twinkling eyes.

"Fine," she concedes. "You did help me—a lot, in fact. So I'll answer your stupid question."

James presses his lips into a straight line, watching her closely as he thinks and leaning forward a bit in his seat. She fights the urge to lean back.

"You promise to answer honestly?" he asks.

"I said I would, didn't I?"

He smirks a little at that, at her frustration, and off his smile spills his question. "Okay. This is my question: would you like to go to dinner with me, Lily Evans?"

"Would I—would I _what?_"

"That's a question, not an answer."

"Because—well, what kind of bloody question is that?" Lily asks, her face burning up to a near fatal extent, she's sure, as she looks at him incredulously.

"One that I would have asked a lot sooner if I knew you'd react like _this_," James says with a broad grin.

"This isn't _funny_, James," Lily says, hitting his arm.

"I'm not trying to be," he tells her earnestly, catching her fingers with his own. "I'm just waiting for my honest answer."

"How could I answer honestly to that?" Lily asks, still reeling from the question. She tries to tug her fingers back, but he doesn't relinquish his grip.

"By saying yes," James says simply, and, _dammit_, he's still smiling.

"Oh, _ha-ha_," Lily says, rolling her eyes and looking away from him.

"Lily?" he asks, stroking his thumb across the back of her knuckles like that's any sort of fair play.

"Hmm?" she responds, and feels the fingers of his other hand tuck under her chin to bring her gaze back to his.

"Say yes," he says quietly, looking into her green eyes intently with his own.

Somehow looking at him, feeling his touch against her skin, calms her down. She takes two deep breaths, not breaking their eye contact.

"Yes," she breathes finally, the word stealing all the air from her lungs.

"Yes?" he asks, and now it's his turn to look surprised.

"Yeah," Lily says again, shaking her head as if she can't believe she said it, either. "Yes, I'll go to dinner with you."

"Okay," James says, looking at her as if she might just hold the answers to every question that's ever come across his mind. "Okay," he repeats, nodding his head like an idiot. It's as if his veins have been pumped full of adrenaline right then—what with the way his hands start to jump around from his coffee mug to his computer to his pencil case like they can't quite control themselves. Lily finds herself grinning at his nervous movements as he starts to pack up his materials, almost putting both his laptop and hers into his bag.

"All right, Potter," Lily says, laughing and reaching out to stop him. "You don't need to commit theft to coerce me into keeping my promise."

"What?—Oh, sorry," he says, handing her laptop back to her. She just smiles at him, physically unable to keep her mouth from angling up at the corners.

They stand up to leave at the same time, and Lily offers a small wave to a very haughty Marlene standing behind the counter who makes a gesture somewhere between _I told you so _and _call me immediately._

The light outside is dim and gray, mirroring a wintry chill in the air. Lily brings her scarf up higher around her neck and tugs her hat down, battling against the cold snow that has only gotten thicker in the intervening hours since she arrived. She and James stand just in front of the doorway, looking at each other without quite knowing what to say.

"So, you'll call me?" Lily asks finally, watching James watch her.

"Actually, I gave my number to Marlene to give to you," James says, smiling down at her. "So it'll have to be the other way around."

"When did you manage that?" Lily asks, surprised.

"When she got off of her break," he says, smirking in that annoying way of his as he slips on his thick gloves.

"But that was long before I even talked to you," Lily tells him.

"I know," he tells her, his eyes shining with amusement as he steps closer to her. "I spotted you the moment I walked in, all crammed into a corner as if the police were out with a warrant for your arrest."

"I—that's hardly—I didn't—and you—"

"Lily," he says slowly, taking another step towards her so that his coat is barely two inches from her own.

"Yes?" It's that word again—yes, yes, yes, as if she can hardly say anything else to him.

He leans down until his nose is brushing hers, until her blood feels like it's starting to dance under her skin and their icy breath becomes one mingled cloud of fog.

"I'll see you soon," he whispers, before closing the distance between them and pressing a slow, warm kiss to her lips. Heat floods her veins, a stark contrast to the icy flakes falling all around them.

When he pulls back, Lily can swear she's blacked out for a moment. Her eyelids are anchored shut, her breath frozen in her lungs, and she can barely form the question that she stammers out.

"What was that for?" she asks. Her eyes finally glide open, only to find that he's already slowly backing away, taking long, jaunty steps as he smiles at her with a heartbreaking grin.

"In case you don't show up, of course," James says, winking at her before he pivots on his feet and turns away.

Lily watches him go, feeling an involuntary smile tug up at her lips—the lips that James Potter kissed not ten seconds ago, tasting of espresso and snowflakes and a little bit like a promise.

And if that was a promise, Lily thinks, then it's one she intends to keep.


End file.
